The Fall
by evieeden
Summary: Steve Rogers wasn't the only one who felt it when he fell from the helicarrier that day. Steve's fall seen from three points of view.
1. What He Deserved

**Here's my latest and unsurprisingly it's all about Steve…well and Bucky and a bit about Maria later. I'm totally blaming/thanking glitteratiglue for this though, especially as she's joined me enthusiastically on the Winter Soldiering of everything.**

 **Anyway, thanks to everyone reading, I appreciate it. And I don't own anything. Marvel do. Cheers and I hope you like this story.**

 **What He Deserved**

Everything ached.

From the partially broken bones in his body to the ripped and torn skin that covered them. He could barely see out of his eyes after the hits to the his face and what he could see was rapidly becoming blurry.

A small part of his brain acknowledged that this could be down to the three bullet wounds he had taken, slowly draining his blood out of them, bit e was sure most of it was down to the hits he had been dealt by the Winter Soldier.

Bucky.

His friend. His… enemy?

No. Bucky was never his enemy, not even when he was beating him half to death.

Bucky, who had watched his back as he gallivanted halfway across Europe, and back even further, when he was just a skinny punk charging around Brooklyn, trying to take on the world. Bucky, who had fallen to an icy death that Steve had been too slow to prevent. Bucky, who he had mourned for and then revenged by killing the Red Skull and tossing the Tesseract into the ocean. Bucky, who it now turned out, hadn't died at all, but had suffered – horrifically suffered – at the hands of Hydra.

No. He could never blame Bucky for any of this.

Which was why he couldn't leave him trapped underneath that steel frame, even though the man had just shot him three times, and it was why he had finally – now that Zola's algorithm had failed and people were relatively safe again – stopped fighting, even if his opponent didn't feel the same way.

So he let his old friend beat him, let him pound his face until he could barely see anymore, while all around them the helicarrier disintegrated into flaming pieces. All he could keep doing at that point was talk – keep reminding Bucky of who he was, of what they meant to each, of how sorry he was and how much he wished he could remember – and take the beating he was given.

Because Bucky was his friend, his only constant in life for a long time.

And he deserved to mete out his punishment.

He caught one last glimpse of his childhood companion watching him with a combination of horror, confusion and amazement, and then the glass floor disappeared from under him with a loud crack…

…and he was falling.

Through the pain and self-recrimination, the residual Catholic part of him whispered that this was just. This was the correct retribution. It was only fair this time that it was him to fall while Bucky watched.

He vaguely registered his body hitting the cool water of the Potomac below the helicarrier – a sensation so achingly familiar to crashing the plane – and as darkness crept over him, a traitorous part of his shattered heart cried out in relief.


	2. What She Realised

**Here's chapter two and this time it's Maria's POV. Thanks to Glitteratiglue for pushing me through this.**

 **Thanks for reading and I hope you like it.**

 **What She Realised**

She knew what he was up to the instant that he told her to fire on the helicarriers even though he wasn't clear yet. In fact, she knew from the moment she realised he was taking longer than needed to for the third override to be inserted in the control panel.

It was Barnes. It had to be.

Maria wasn't stupid. She had been at Shield for years before making her way up to Deputy Directorship and in the army before that. She knew the look of a man who had given up before he had even began, and from Steve's frozen reaction in the back in the Strike team's trucks, she also knew that he would hesitate if it came to a fight between him and his old friend.

James Barnes.

Now there was a ghost back from the grave to chill anyone's spine.

Hell, she knew that Cap had been on ice for a while before being recovered, but even though he was listed as dead, the presence of the serum in his bloodstream meant that people had never assumed that his death was as absolute as it had first appeared.

But Barnes…no one could have predicted that one. Not that he would survive the fall in the Alps and not that Hydra would get their hands on him and turn him into a brainwashed assassin.

He hadn't recognised Rogers on the street though and that told Maria more than anything that Cap's hopes that his old friend wouldn't confront him were a whitewash.

They must have fought. It was the only way… the only reason why Rogers would have taken so long – pushing it to the last second – before stopping the algorithm from eliminating all of Hydra's enemies. The only reason why he had ordered her to fire on the helicarriers even though to do so meant possible death.

"Do it!" His voice crackled over the earpiece, demanding.

Her fingers twitched for a brief second, hesitating, before she hit the button that would end it all. It was mere moments before the sound of heavy artillery filled the air and screams began to echo around the Triskelion.

Extracting the hard drives from the control system, Maria shoved them into her bag and secured it across her body, keeping her arms free.

Outside it was complete chaos. People had weapons drawn, trusted colleagues were firing at those panicking workers running through the building, ruthlessly cutting them down.

She hugged the wall closely and firing efficiently at anyone who looked like they were attacking the innocent. Fucking Hydra! How dare they come in here and try to destroy everything these people stood for!

Turning a corner, she stopped dead in her tracks.

 _Mareks_.

A man she had trusted, had laughed with, gone on missions with, confided in was there. They had joined Shield at the same time, gone through the same training. And there he was, stood confidently in the middle of the corridor butchering admin staff as they tried to flee their offices and get away from the battle in the helicarriers above.

Hearing some noise, he spun and saw her, his automatic raised. A look of surprise crossed his face and for a split second, he hesitated.

That second was all she needed. The bullet between his eyes slid in neatly and efficiently and Maria moved on. Now was not the time for grieving or reflection. That would come later, when the dust was settled and the bodies had been counted.

Slipping out through the side door that they had entered by, she retreated back to the forest that they had hidden in before their attack.

She almost regretted looking back.

Shield was burning.

Two of the destroyed helicarriers were dropping out of the sky, still firing at each other, as if they were nothing more than paper planes, one crashing into the river sending waves rushing along the banks and the other hitting the bridge that connected the building with the rest of DC.

The third helicarrier was still in the air, but beginning to break apart from the damage it had sustained. As it plummeted, it caught the edge of the Triskelion and began to carve a path through the upper reaches of the building where the World Council had convened. Maria winced at the destruction it was causing.

She knew the danger of course – she had been one of the first targets identified by Insight's satellites – but there were so many innocent people up there still and she dreaded to think how they were coping with this new and dangerous sudden turn of events.

A helicopter was buzzing around the top of the Triskelion – _Romanoff and Fury_ , her brain supplied – and as she watched, it swooped severely to one side, catching a small figure who had suddenly burst from one of the windows as the falling helicarrier shattered everything in its path.

Wilson had made it safely out then, she noted.

Now there was just Steve to watch for. Two of the helicarriers had fallen now, the sky and river lit up with flames and burning metal. The acrid smell caught in the back of her throat and Maria had force back the urge to vomit.

The remaining helicarrier, the one that Steve was on, was still hanging in the air, half over the Potomac and half buried in the Triskelion.

Amongst all the fallen debris, she nearly missed it – a small circular shape spinning through the air before cutting into the water about a hundred metres away from where she stood.

The shield. Steve's shield. Falling into the river with no sign of its owner.

Her brain immediately shut down the half dozen implications this one act had, dismissing them offhand, before they could become fully developed thoughts. She didn't even know she was running until she found herself on the bank of the river, stripping off her heavy jacket and throwing her weapons away behind a convenient copse of trees.

It didn't hit her that she had never seen Steve let go of the shield voluntarily in a fight before until she felt the shock of cold water enveloping her body.

Diving down, Maria forced her eyes open in the murky water, searching frantically. She kicked her body upwards, breaking the surface and taking a frantic gasp of air before diving once more.

Stupid, stupid.

It was just a weapon, nothing more. She should leave it where it fell.

Except it was so much more, and she couldn't leave it.

A glint of metal caught her eye just as she was about to run out of air and she tugged the shield from the mud and weeds where it had become embedded.

Coughing and spitting out any water that had made it into her mouth and lungs, she collapsed – shield in hand – back on the river bank just in time to watch Steve fall from the helicarrier in the distance. His heavy body crashed into the water with no resistance.

Cursing, she scrambled to her feet and waited. He didn't rise again, didn't swim to the surface, didn't stir the water…

And unlike the shield she was too far away to get to him. Her body already felt wrecked by adrenaline and the shock of the cold – how awful was it that she could save the symbol, but the man was beyond her reach.

Steve had fallen.

Someone had pushed him.

Forcing her gaze away from the river bank she stared up at the disintegrating helicarrier and swore she saw a dark figure standing there, also watching.

 _Barnes_. It had to be.

Steve wouldn't just give up without a fight. He wouldn't let Hydra take him out, especially after the damage they'd already caused him during his short life.

He wouldn't let them push him so he fell.

But he would do all that for the sake of his best friend - the man he had stormed into a prison for in Nazi Germany, the man he had fought side by side with for years, the man he felt he had betrayed by watching him fall into the hands of Zola and his deranged scientists.

Captain America had fallen and it was all down to James Barnes.

Maria blinked and the figure was gone, a shadow… a ghost…

Ten minutes later, stumbling wildly along to the agreed upon rendezvous point near where Steve had fallen, shield and weapons in hand, Maria nearly tripped over his body.

Unconscious and bleeding heavily from at least four gunshots wounds, he looked in no position to have hauled himself out of the river and as she radioed for help, she scanned the immediate area, gun in hand. Large footprints in the mud leading away suggested that Steve hadn't been alone and the image of the shadow in the air flashed across Maria's mind.

 _Captain America had been saved…_

And Maria was fairly certain that it was all down to James Barnes.


	3. What He Remembered

**And here's Bucky's POV. Sorry it took so long to complete. I've been struggling with the split personality of Bucky vs the Winter Soldier. Anyway, many thanks once more to glitteratiglue who has cheered and pushed me through this and kept me going with lots of Stucky-ness in the meantime.**

 **What He Remembered**

The mission was incomplete. He needed to complete the mission.

He had never failed before.

 _Once before…_

His head ached.

 _There had been a little, red-headed girl…_

He wasn't about to fail again. This soldier was an enemy.

 _The man on the bridge._

He needed to be eliminated so that the director's project would be successful.

 _He knew him._

So he fought him and stopped him from inserting the last computer chip into the system.

 _He was sure he knew him._

The man was a good fighter…strong. But he was strong too.

 _The man called him by name._

He could defeat him.

 _Bucky…_

He fought back the groans of pain at the beating he had received today.

 _Why did that name seem so familiar?_

He twisted abruptly and threw the other man, but he stayed standing.

 _He always got back up._

The other man flew at him in a flurry of punches.

 _He never stayed down when he should._

He grappled with the other man and the chip fell over the side of the platform.…off the platform that led to his goal.

 _He knew him_.

A right hook hit his face.

 _He had felt that hit before._

It was all wrong, everything about this felt wrong. He slipped, off balance.

He was never off balance.

 _He felt so tired._

A well-placed kick sent him sliding off the platform and onto the floor of the helicarrier. The man jumped down after him.

 _They were always chasing after each other._

He changed the mission parameters in his head. The target – the man – wanted the chip. He raced across the glass to catch it and was slammed into the floor.

The asset never failed.

Only the man was strong.

 _The man was weak._

He fought back despite his injuries and pinned him on the floor of the helicarrier, dislocating his shoulder, wrapping his legs around his prosthetic and stopping him from using it effectively.

The asset must not be defective. The prosthetic must not be defective.

 _His arm hurt so much._

A strong arm wrapped around his neck, cutting off his oxygen supply. He fought harder. He couldn't allow himself to be stopped. He couldn't fail.

 _There was only pain and blood… so much blood._

He could feel unconsciousness clouding his mind and then nothing. It felt like only seconds later that his brain reset itself, but those seconds were enough, the target had acquired the disk again and was climbing to the system overdrive.

 _He was so high in the air._

The asset had one weapon left. He fired.

The man jolted as red bloomed across his back. But he kept climbing.

The asset fired again. The man staggered but kept climbing.

The asset aimed the gun again.

The strange man was choking now, struggling to make it the final inches to place the chip in place.

 _He hadn't been able to breathe. He needed to get to hospital._

The asset's finger hesitated.

He cursed himself. The asset must not be defective.

 _So weak, and struggling for breath._

He closed his eyes briefly, diverting attention from the target.

The asset was defective.

He opened his eyes. He fired.

The man collapsed.

The asset had to stop himself from crying out.

 _He was hurt. He shouldn't be hurt_.

There was red spreading across the man's abdomen as he slid to the floor.

 _He was too weak. He wouldn't survive another harsh beating._

The asset dropped the gun.

 _He couldn't bear to hold a gun again._

He turned away. There was a click.

He turned around sharply, arm clutched closely to his side. The chip was placed in the system mainframe.

The asset had failed.

The helicarrier began to break away around him, its guns rerouting and self-destructing.

 _Maybe it was better this way._

Pain shattered through his body as a beam broke off the upper walkway and crashed down onto the floor of the helicarrier, smashing down over his injured shoulder and pinning him beneath its weight.

He cried out. The man heard him.

 _He was down with nothing but pain._

Jumping down from the mainframe and onto the floor of the helicarrier, the man stalked towards him.

He needed to get free. He couldn't stay down.

He was vulnerable. He couldn't get free.

 _He was trapped and there was so much pain._

The asset was failing this mission. Failure was unacceptable.

 _They had punished him for his failure._

He struggled to get free and then the man was helping him.

They punished her too – the little red-headed girl…

The metal around creaked and groaned and he knew that he would be crushed before the man succeeded.

 _He watched as they beat her and then there was nothing but cold._

The cold of the glass and the metal soaked through his clothes as the man fought to move the beam.

 _The man was weak… smaller…_

The beam was lifted and he slipped out and immediately attacked.

 _The man was stronger. It was… permanent._

The man was his mission.

They fought. But the man kept talking, kept saying things.

"You know me."

 _He knew him._

"We've been best friends our whole lives."

 _He knew him._

The asset was clearly defective. He needed to get away, get back so they could fix him.

"You know me."

He lost control. "No I don't."

Control. He needed to regain control.

"You know me." The man persisted.

He threw away the shield.

 _He was carrying the dumbest looking shield._

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."

 _James Barnes. 107_ _th_ _Infantry. Sergeant. 325575._

"You're my friend," the man insisted.

"You're my mission."

His mission. The Asset could not be defective.

But there was noise in his head. So much noise.

 _Everything seemed so much louder than before._

He kept punching the man. His mission. He wasn't fighting back.

 _He didn't know how to walk away from a fight._

The man was down, bleeding, beaten. He would die soon and then mission would be complete.

"…'cos I'm with you 'til the end of the line."

He froze, fist in the air.

 _His hand was in the wrong place._

 _His hand was on his shoulder. The man was smaller upset._

The man was beneath him bleeding…crying.

He looked ready to drop.

 _He couldn't stand to see him hurt._

His face was swollen, his nose was bloody.

'…' _til the end of the line.'_

His body was surrounded by blood.

' _Thanks Bucky.'_

He stood up and then stumbled onto a beam as the glass beneath them shattered and the man was falling.

He watched him fall, watched his face. He was sure it was wrong. The face was wrong… the direction.

The man was falling, but it was all wrong. The man shouldn't be falling.

 _He was falling and the man was watching him, calling to him, crying for him, even as he faded from sight._

He could see the moment the man gave up and embraced his inevitable death. He saw him hit the river and sink down, consumed by the water.

He needed to get out of there, needed to escape before they caught him, needed to retreat back to the cold so they could fix him…

The man was helpless down there in the water, no-one knew, no-one was coming to help him.

The helicarrier rocked underneath him.

He jumped without a thought, angling himself to land exactly where he saw the man fall seconds earlier. The cold of the water didn't bother him. It wasn't that cold anyway and he'd felt worse.

The pain from hitting the ground was only secondary to the sharp, paralysing chill that froze his body.

Opening his eyes, he searched the gloom and the debris before noticing the flash of red and white beneath him.

 _The little punk was always getting into trouble, he just couldn't help himself._

Without trying to analyse his actions, he dived and grabbed a hold on his wrist, pulling him to the surface with his still-working metal hand.

 _Bucky wouldn't have hesitated either._

He dragged the man onto the shore and then looked around warily. The man was still bleeding, still unconscious. No one was coming for them though. He would be safe if left there.

 _His name was James Buchanan Barnes._

He needed to get out of there before they came… before anyone came.

 _He was his friend._

He hesitated, but then heard the sound of someone stumbling towards where he had left the man.

 _Stevie was always getting himself into trouble._

He ran, slipping away from the bank of the river, and vanishing into the darkness of the woods.

Peering through the trees, he saw a dark-haired woman nearly fall over the man. He fingered his knife, but released his grip on the weapon when he saw that she was holding the shield and calling the man's name.

The woman looked up, eyes clearly following the trail he had left behind, but she stayed with the man radioing for help. Falling to the floor next to the man, she pressed her hands against two of the bullet wounds.

 _He was always saving him. It was just what he did._

 _He would follow him anywhere. He couldn't help himself._

He ran away.


End file.
